


somebody else

by montecarlos



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Masturbation, Pain, Pining, Sex, Suffering, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: Jenson often wonders if Lewis thinks about Nico. He wonders if he’s truly let him go, if he’s resigned himself to the fact that they will never be something.





	somebody else

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_decade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_decade/gifts).



> This fic is a birthday present for the wonderful Caroline - it's a bit of an angst fest so I hope you enjoy it my baby :)
> 
> Warnings for sex, cheating and vague metaphors. Thank you to Emma, Nino and Anna for hand holding throughout this process.

_I don't want your body_  
_But I hate to think about you with somebody else_  
_Our love has gone cold_  
_You're intertwining your soul with somebody else_  


* * *

  
Jenson knows all about them. He knew when it all began - it wasn’t difficult to see the signs - that of whispers across garages, of hidden marks, of dark red cheeks and rumpled overalls. He doesn’t blame them. It’s hard to find and keep a girlfriend in this sort of world - one who understands that you’re not locked onto one place, that your attention is elsewhere for the entire weekend. You gravitate towards the other drivers. They understand, they crave the same attention that you want - sometimes it’s a blowjob in the motorhome, sometimes it’s being fucked into rumpled sheets twenty minutes before the race.  
  
Jenson remembers Lewis when he first came to Formula One. He was a slip of a thing with a buzzed head, a skinny physique and had just come off the back of winning the GP2 Championship. There was a lot of fanfare about him - about this kid who had commanded the junior series he was in, who had been destined for McLaren ever since eleven digits were scrawled onto a napkin twelve years ago. He had worried about Lewis even then - worried that this tiny kid wouldn’t be able to even get the car started. But Lewis had defied all the odds. He became the most successful rookie since Jacques Villeneuve - breaking several records along the way. Jenson watched Lewis win the championship for the first time a year later. He remembers watching the Brit light up as champagne engulfed him, a British flag draped around his back like armour. He also remembers later that night, watching Lewis press a blonde haired man - Nico - against the wall on the darkened balcony at the afterparty. He had watched them with interest - watched Lewis’s lips glide over Nico’s, his leg sliding between Nico’s thighs, the German’s fingers fisting into Lewis’s McLaren t-shirt. He remembers wanting that intensity, wanting someone to want him in such a way.  
  
Jenson wins his own championship a year later.  
  
_Anything you can do I can do better._  
  
They became teammates the year after that and Jenson really began to notice how close Lewis and Nico really were. Kisses were exchanged in the back of garages, behind tyre walls, in the copse of trees on the track walk. Jenson remembers seeing the red mark on Lewis’s neck - like a smear of belonging just visible underneath the collar of his overalls. He remembers seeing Lewis in his garage with swollen lips and rumpled overalls and he just knew. He knew who was responsible. Nobody batted an eyelid though. It was relatively normal behaviour within the paddock - Jenson had stopped counting the amount of times that he’d caught Mark Webber’s body pressed underneath Fernando Alonso, his tongue tracing over the Spaniard’s tanned neck. He’d ended up fucking Adrian in Australia - they’d collapsed onto the bed, their lips sliding over each other. Adrian had moaned out his name as his mouth kissed bruises into the German’s neck, as his fingers had worked him open. It was everything Jenson needed - Adrian underneath him with heavy lidded eyes, his fingernails scraping into Jenson’s naked back as he’d muttered in German.  
  
“That was incredible,” Adrian had murmured as Jenson had collapsed at the side of him, Adrian’s come still clinging to his stomach as he’d pulled the sheets taut around them.  
  
Jenson can’t help but agree.  


* * *

  
Lewis and Jenson’s first podium as teammates had come in China. Lewis had congratulated Jenson with a wide smile, his hand slapping Jenson’s shoulder in celebration. However, Nico had entered the cool down room and Lewis’s smile had grown even larger if that was possible. He’d thrown himself into the arms of the German, Nico’s hands enveloping Lewis and pulling their bodies together. Jenson had felt his mouth go dry at the sight - wanting, craving such love and affection himself. He brushes the thoughts away with the taste of champagne, with the cheer of the crowd. But later that night, the thoughts return when he’s coiled up in the sweaty sheets, the skyline of Shanghai illuminated with the darkened windows. His hand finds his swollen dick and he brings himself off in sharp movements, almost mechanical.  
  
A vision of Lewis smiling appears before his eyes and he comes against the sheets, his body twisting in orgasm as his teammate’s name spills from his lips.  
  
He watches the relationship between Lewis and Nico blossom over the next few years - Nico is good for Lewis. Their car isn’t as good and Nico is there to comfort Lewis, to gently brush kisses over his lips, over his hipbones. Jenson doesn’t see it but he doesn’t need to. He just _knows_ . He can see it in Lewis’s expressions the morning after the race, in the dark marks that decorate Lewis’s neck, the way Nico’s hand stops for half a second longer, almost lingering, not wanting to let go. He hears them once - muffled through the walls of the hotel rooms, hears the sound of unrestrained kisses, of whispered names, of tongues over sweaty skin.  
  
His hand finds his half-hard dick once more and he knows he shouldn’t. But he _does_ anyway. He muffles Lewis’s name into his pillows, pretends that it’s his teammates hand palming his cock and not his own. He comes in a matter of minutes, the orgasm lingering in his lower abdomen, the sheets covered with semen.  


* * *

  
Lewis tells Jenson first of his decision. Jenson looks at his teammate - at the man he had become. He looks different in some ways. His hair is still short and buzzed, but he’s no longer the slip of the boy he was years ago. His eyes burn with a different intensity - they’re dark and undiluted, as though they have a mission to fulfil.  
  
“I’m leaving for Mercedes,” Lewis says, lowering his mirrored sunglasses. “I wanted you to hear it from me and not from the press,”  
  
Jenson opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He’s not even sure what he wants to say to Lewis.  
  
_Don’t go._  
  
He can’t do it. Lewis would not understand.  
  
He watches Lewis tell the press of his decision afterwards. "It is now time for me to take on a fresh challenge and I am very excited to begin a new chapter," He listens to Lewis speak - it sounds scripted and fake - not words that he would expect Lewis to say. Lewis continues, "Mercedes-Benz has such an incredible heritage in motorsport, along with a passion for winning which I share. Together, we can grow and rise to this new challenge. I believe that I can help steer the Silver Arrows to the top and achieve our joint ambitions of winning the world championships,” It sounds like something a PR manager would write and still doesn’t explain Lewis’s reasons. It makes no sense. Well, actually, part of it does to Jenson - there’s something - _someone_ \- at Mercedes that they don’t have at McLaren.  
  
_Nico._  
  
Jenson wonders if that was the real reason that Lewis wanted to switch - he had the opportunity to race alongside the man who had been a constant throughout his life, a man who pushed him to his limits. He tries to imagine them together at Mercedes - no interruptions, free to do whatever they please without the iron rule of Ron bearing down on them. Suddenly, Lewis’s decision becomes crystal clear.  
  
He still doesn’t approve of the switch. He still thinks that Lewis is thinking with his heart and not with his head of the outcome. They ask him what he thinks - of course, they do, they’re teammates after all - and he can’t stop the words slipping from his mouth.  
  
“It is his decision, although I personally don't think it is the right decision,” He finds himself saying, not caring if the words cut Lewis open.  


* * *

  
At first, things are amicable between Lewis and Nico at Mercedes. There’s photos of them together grinning in their matching overalls, arms thrown around each other in congratulations when either of them win. But things soon start to sour when the pressure appears. It’s 2014 - a year since Lewis walked out on McLaren - and they’re both fighting for the championship. Jenson watches the pair of them - still as intense as ever - become strangers to one another. Hurried kisses become angry glances. Warm embraces become words laced with barbed wire and with the intent to hurt. Jenson watches it all unfold before his eyes as they clash in Bahrain, under the floodlights of the dusty desert. He watches Lewis’s soft facade harden - his brown eyes almost black as they survey Nico - they no longer see him as a friend but as the enemy.  
  
He knows they still come together though after the races - whilst the team is packing away the cars for the next round, Lewis and Nico are falling into bed together with hungry eyes and hurried kisses. Jenson sees the bruises on Nico’s neck, sees the anger and hurt in every single mark, yet Nico wears them like a badge of honour. Nico gets married halfway through the season and yet, nothing seems to change between them. They still end up tangled together - Jenson still sees them behind the tyre wall, whispering in hushed voices. Jenson wonders if Vivian knows about Lewis, about what it is between them. It all comes to a head in Abu Dhabi - when Lewis manages to win his second championship whilst Nico is left to nurse his car home outside of the points, his chance at glory in tatters. He spots a glimpse of what they used to be after the race - when Nico goes to Lewis, his hand connecting with Lewis’s cheek in an almost tender motion as he whispers words of congratulations. Lewis accepts them with tears in his eyes, exhaustion plain to see on his face.  


* * *

  
2015 is equally as exhausting on the pair of them - there’s still animosity between them and it’s plain to see. Nico announces Vivian’s pregnancy just before the start of the season, he posts a photo of him sitting alongside his wife with his hand pressed against her swelling stomach. Jenson wonders if Lewis knows, if he cares. They continue to play along for the cameras, for the Mercedes promotions and videos for the sponsors. There’s a gulf between them, even as they stand side by side, discomfort evident in both of their bodies. Yet, it’s all an illusion as the second they climb into their cars. They become something else, like strangers almost. Jenson watches Nico become a different person in the car - the affection and love melts away into something else, something dark. He wonders if they still fuck, if they still whisper to each other after races, if they still kiss.  
  
His question is answered in Hungary when he catches them in the back of the garage. Lewis is pinned against the wall with his head thrown back as Nico thrusts into him, his hands grip Nico’s biceps with enough force to bruise. They kiss as Nico fucks Lewis, thrusting as hard as he can - Nico’s tongue tracing a line down Lewis’s tanned neck. Lewis’s face is open and unguarded as he’s fucked, as Nico’s name pulls itself from his lips. Nico seems to smile at that, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. Lewis seems to fall apart underneath him, his fingernails scrambling over Nico’s naked back. The only sounds surrounding them is that of their own forced pants, the ruffle of the Nomex and the background noise of mechanics working on cars in other garage. Nico groans out Lewis’s name as he comes inside the Brit, Lewis following suit as he arches his back and allows come to splatter over Nico’s overalls. They stay there for a moment, still in the moment.  
  
Jenson knows he should leave. He knows that he could be caught watching them - but they’re a sight he cannot tear his eyes from.  
  
“This is the last time, Lewis,” Nico says hoarsely, his green eyes locked on Lewis.  
  
“Why?” Lewis asks, confusion in his eyes.  
  
“You know _why_ ,” Nico says, worrying his lip.  
  
Jenson’s heard enough. He leaves as quietly as he can, thoughts swirling through his mind. He’s seen their goodbye.  


* * *

  
Lewis seems to change after that. He seems focused on only one thing - on winning the Championship. His hunger only intensifies when Nico becomes a father. Jenson watches as Nico posts photos of himself and Vivian cradling their newborn, whilst Lewis trains in the gym. Jenson watches him at races - watches how hard and closed off he’s become at the loss of Nico. There’s no more whispers, no more marks decorating his neck, no more touches that seem to last a lifetime. It’s all gone.  
  
Jenson is at the afterparty after Singapore when a drink appears in his vision. Lewis stands before him - dressed rather conservatively in a dark shirt and jeans - a small smile on his lips.  
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jenson says, accepting the drink and clinking the glass against Lewis’s. “You don’t usually go to these things,”  
  
“Neither do you,” Lewis points out.  
  
“Good point,” Jenson says, taking a drink.  
  
They end up dancing with each other, their tongues soured by the taste of alcohol, their minds dulled by the several shots they consumed. Jenson forgets everything in that moment, forgets about Nico, about the way that Lewis left. He’s here right now, he tells himself as his arm folds over Lewis’s shoulder. Lewis melts into the touch and Jenson isn’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol but he finds himself not caring. The music blares out and the lights seem to spin as Lewis leans in, his eyes searching for a question he hopes Jenson can answer. Jenson leans in, mirroring the Brit’s body language. Their lips meet tentatively, almost in a shy fashion. Lewis’s lips slowly move over Jenson’s and he melts further against Jenson’s chest, his hand fisting into the dark material of Jenson’s shirt. Jenson kisses back - slowly, surely - allowing Lewis to set the pace. Lewis’s lips are slightly chapped and warm, Jenson thinks, as his tongue darts out over the crease of Jenson’s lips. Jenson opens his mouth, tasting the jaegerbomb that is still clinging to Lewis’s lips and mouth.  
  
“Jense-” Lewis murmurs into the kiss, his hand still fisted into the Brit’s shirt.  
  
Jenson allows the moment to take him over. Nothing else matters - just him and Lewis, just their bodies tangled together on the middle of the dancefloor. He’s wanted this for so long, wanted this closeness with somebody else, with someone that was so unattainable. The lights seem to fade away and the night says goodbye as they end up back at Jenson’s hotel room. Alcohol pulses through Jenson’s veins as his fingers find the bottom of Lewis’s shirt, pulling it up to reveal tanned, tattooed skin. Their bodies come together, pressing against one another, possessing each other as they tangle amongst the sheets.  
  
Lewis ends up calling out his name as Jenson fucks him, Lewis’s fingernails leave marks on his skin and he repays the favour by leaving his own marks on Lewis’s skin, just visible on his collarbone. Lewis doesn’t belong to Nico anymore. He’s fair game.  


* * *

  
It becomes a _thing_ between them then, so to speak - an arrangement of sorts. Jenson hardly cares, it takes away the pain of competing in a shitty car. Races pass by with hurried kisses, with teeth scraping over pale skin, with whispered curses between them. Jenson wakes up next to Lewis in rumpled sheets every time and feels the smile stretch over his lips at the sight of Lewis so honest and open. Jenson often wonders if Lewis thinks about Nico. He wonders if he’s truly let him go, if he’s resigned himself to the fact that they will never be something. But Lewis smooths all his fears away - his eyes connecting with Jenson’s as they fuck, as they kiss, making him feel like the only person in the world.  
  
Nico catches them in America. Jenson has Lewis pinned against the wall - his favourite position - and is thrusting into the Brit when he hears the sound of the door opening. He stops, frozen in that moment as Nico takes in the sight of the pair, of Lewis’s overalls discarded on the floor, of Jenson’s halfway down his hips. He watches the green eyes take in the sight of Lewis panting, of the sweat glistening on his dark skin, of his pupils - blown so much his eyes are almost black. Nico says nothing as he turns on his heel and leaves, the only sound is that of the door gently closing behind him.  
  
“Aren’t you going to follow him?” Jenson asks, eyes locking with Lewis.  
  
“Why? I am never going to be his number one,” Lewis says, worrying his lip. “I need to move on from him, be someone else,”  
  
Jenson holds Lewis’s glance. “You sure?”  
  
“I’m positive, Jense,” Lewis says, his eyes locked on Jenson.  


* * *

  
Jenson watches Nico carefully over the next few races and sees an expression that he remembers well. He sees desire, longing, envy reflected back in the green eyes. It’s what he used to be when he watched Lewis and Nico together. He’s Lewis’s somebody else. He’s not sure what will happen in the future but he’s become what he wanted to be.  
  
He tries not to think about Nico, tries not to imagine what he is going through, thinking about what could have been. It doesn’t matter in this moment. He pushes the thoughts out of his mind as Lewis’s hand folds around his own, warmth surrounding his skin.  



End file.
